Broken Ice

Chapter 14

"Hey, Kent." Michael sat down right in front of me at my lunch table. It was as if a bomb went off with how quickly everyone's eyes zoomed to see this anomaly. Beloved Michael sitting with the coattail-riding Gianna.

"Uhh," I looked around, hot from all the stares burning into me. "What do you need, Michael?"

"Your training plan." He hands me a notebook. On it, there was a strip of white paper with the words 'Training Plan' written on it.

"What is all this?"

"Exactly what it says, a training plan." He pulled up his phone and turned it to me. It was the state championships for ice skating. "We're going to get you ready so you can win championships."

"Okay. Can we talk somewhere more...private?"

He tilted his head in confusion, but still agreed.

"I'll be back, guys." Quinn and Amanda just stared, mouths gaping, like it was opposites day.

I brought Michael to an empty classroom and closed the door so no one could listen in. "You can't do that."

"Do what? Help? I thought we wanted to win?"

"No, I mean come up to me with everyone around and act all friendly."

"Are we not friends?"

I groan, why didn't he get it? "We are, but to society, we don't exist in the same plane. Someone like you and someone like me talk for getting notes, " I counted on my fingers, "group projects, information on where to find the homework, and school clubs." I raised my 5 fingers. "If it isn't similar to that, we don't talk. I can barely talk to Reggie and that's only because I'm friends with Quinn—and let me tell you, it took a while before Quinn's crowd allowed us to be friends." With Michael, it would be like social suicide. They'd round up the firing squad.

"Fine."

"Good."

"So I'll see you later?"

"Yeah." He didn't wait a second before rushing out the door, leaving me alone and slightly regretful that I asked for it.

I came back into the cafeteria and my gaze fell to Michael's table where he was laughing at a joke Reggie made, but I could see the happiness wasn't in his eyes. My heart felt achingly empty, like we truly were on the planes I described, but I got what I asked for. I slid into the cafeteria bench, sitting beside Quinn with Amanda opposite to us. I quickly texted a sorry to Michael.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." I put my phone on the table and stabbed the carrot rolling around in my plate of salad.

Amanda scoffed, "Come on, just tell me." After realizing I wouldn't respond, her mouth set in a firm frown and she grabbed my phone.

"Hey!" I tried to grab it back, but she held it away from me. "Do you think you're suddenly too good for us now that Michael paid you a tiny bit of attention?"

"Amanda, quit being annoying." Quinn yanked the phone out of her grasp.

"You do realize that I'm defending you, right?"

"You're just mad that you aren't the center of everyone's world, Amanda."

She turned red and threw the phone back down onto the cafe table. "Whatever. When she turns out like Emily, don't call me." Amanda grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and leaving.

"Thanks." I said.

"Don't bother." She said, "Because how have you not told me you're dating Michael Thomas?" I playfully groan and tell her a little of our story.

"He's helping me with getting back into figure skating."

"You weren't doing that anymore?" I shook my head.

"Man, I really know nothing." She held my hand, "I'm sorry for being such a sucky friend lately."

"It's okay."

"It's not, though." She said, "I love you and I miss seeing you smile for real."

I hug her, "I love you, too."

She suddenly squealed and I jumped, "What?"

"I can be your stylist!"

"Oh, I couldn't–"

"Well, I am." She interrupted, "I want my clothes on a champion."

"Then, I'm in your hands, Stylist Hernandez."

"You're my favourite client."

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